The fussing hadn’t lasted long, much to Victoire’s relief. Her mother had swept her into a fierce hug before putting her to work. She’d fielded questions about the hospital as gracefully as she could manage, agreeing with her aunts and cousins that, yes, she [i]did[/i] need to get more time off. The lie tasted foul on her tongue, but there was little time to worry. She was set to slicing vegetables. The familiarity of the kitchen was a small comfort; even with magic, there was always work to be done. She could handle work. The others bantered and gossiped as they prepared old favorites

Victoire had never taken to chopping by wand—she preferred the weight of the knife in her hand, the challenge in perfectly even slices. She could find peace in the work, even with the white noise pressing in upon her. She hadn’t cooked in months, had lived on cheap sandwiches and peppers from the teashop and whatever Naoko fancied cooking up. She had missed this, she realized, even if she found the sheer volume of people in the tiny kitchen to be oppressive.

“Courgette, Victoire—“ her mother’s voice cut through the static, and she started, sweeping her pile of zucchini into a large bowl and sending it towards her mother obediently. She made the mistake of scanning the room on returning to her work. 

The air slammed out of her lungs, as if she had fallen into ice. Her pulse fluttered in her skin, as volatile as wild Abraxans. She thought her ribs might snap under the strain. The last person in the world she wanted to see was turning on foot, claiming a large tray of treacle tart from her young cousin, and for a moment there was nothing but Teddy. Time was an ocean, its depths crystalizing into ice, stilling everything around her.

[i]Merlin[/i], he was every bit as magnetic as she remembered. It was impossible to focus on anything but the familiar lines of his profile. She was sixteen again and stumbling after him and his easy laugh, lacing their fingers together and drinking him in. There were lines in his face now, and not a blue hair in sight, but there was no mistaking him. 

Not for the first time, it occurred to Victoire that hiding for two years had been a thoroughly stupid way of handling things. Her pulse raced, quickened by a dozen different memories she had pushed aside, had never dealt with. She had drowned herself in patients and paperwork to forget him, but now she was here and there was nothing to distract herself with. Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t help the memories slamming into her like a freight train.

Just as suddenly as she had noticed him, he was gone. Victoire felt her cheeks burn, and she automatically dropped her gaze to the peppers she had to slice. In a fog, she began topping the vegetables, coring them with practiced hands. She could sense wary eyes on her, but she was determined not to look. Somehow, despite knowing that being here would be awful, she hadn’t been able to imagine just how painful seeing him again would be. Her fingers tightened on the knife, knuckles whitening about the blade.

The rest of the preparation passed in a blur. Victoire was barely aware of what was going on, following orders mechanically. She wished she could have left, but by the time they were finishing plating food, her father had found her and she couldn’t find the nerve. He led her to the garden, a source of calm among the disarray. He said nothing of her absence and Victoire wasn’t sure if she was grateful or ashamed. Both, more likely.

	They ran into Louis along the way, a foot taller than last she had seen him, more man than boy. Sixteen and he’d be the tallest in the family before long, she was certain. They embraced and Victoire was selfishly pleased that at least he wasn’t unhappy to see her.

	“You’re so tall!” She blurted, unable to help herself. He arched a brow at her before the expression shifted to a lazy grin. Victoire smiled through her embarrassment, and despite her dread and the nightmare that was facing Teddy, she found herself deliriously happy to see Louis. They had always been exceptionally close; quieter than the others, and the only one of her family to follow her into Ravenclaw, she’d written him far more frequently than the others over the past two years. The guilt crashed into her all over again, a relentless tide. She shouldn’t have left. She should have been family, no matter her fear.

	“You look--- tired,” he decided upon after a long moment. Victoire winced. That was being kind, she sensed.

	“I’ve been working nights,” she explained, although she wasn’t sure how much she could pin on the hospital, having had the last three days off. “Never mind that. I hear you picked up Prefect…”

	They linked arms, the three of them joining the large throng of family and sorting out seats along the enormous oak tables. The logistics of a Weasley-Potter dinner were always a nightmare, but Victoire was pleased to find herself and Louis a good two tables away from Teddy [s]even if she couldn’t help but sneak glances in his general direction[/s].